


One Word Does All the Difference Make

by rayvyn2k



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, HEA, HP: EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvyn2k/pseuds/rayvyn2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After one too many accidents, Hermione turns to the only person she knows who can help her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Word Does All the Difference Make

**Author's Note:**

  * For [duniazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duniazade/gifts).



> Written for the sshg_exchange on Live Journal, Winter 2012 for duniazade.
> 
> Original Prompt: 1. All of Hermione’s husbands meet their demise or some other significant mishap shortly after their marriage. There’s only one candidate interested now – the bravest of them all, the man who kept asking for the DADA job.

** I **

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~June 15, 2000~
> 
> **Finally! Granger-Weasley Tie the Knot**
> 
> _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _Your intrepid correspondent has learned from her most reliable sources that Miss Hermione Granger (recently recruited into the Department of Mysteries), has finally married the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons, Mr. Ronald Weasley. The small, private ceremony took place on Wednesday, June 14th at the home of the groom’s brother in Cornwall._
> 
> _Regular readers know that your faithful reporter has often wondered in these pages if the long-engaged couple ever intended to wed at all given their hectic schedules and different lifestyles. Their nuptials were very welcome and arranged very quickly after all these years, causing many to speculate if there may be some other reason for the urgency._
> 
> _Only time will tell. And so will I, dearest readers, as soon as there is anything to tell (or show)._
> 
> _The bride wore a princess style ball gown with a chapel length train. The dress was ivory, strapless and covered with rose appliques and embellished with hundreds of beads along the bodice and the full, taffeta and tulle skirt. A pale champagne colored, satin sash wrapped around the waist and tied in the back into a huge bow with the two ends trailing to the hem in the back. Her hair was twisted into a chignon (how many bottles of Sleek-easy did that take?) A mid-length organza veil was pinned with ivory combs at the back of her hair. She carried a bouquet of white calla lilies wrapped with an ivory ribbon.  
>  The matron of honor was no surprise as Mrs. Ginny Potter has been a close friend of Miss Granger since their days at Hogwarts. Mrs. Potter wore a lovely lavender silk gown with intricate beading along the neckline. The delicate fall of the dress could not conceal her advanced state of pregnancy. _
> 
> _The groom wore the traditional formal wizard robes of deepest navy, although the effect was marred by the tatty trainers he had on his feet. His best man was, of course, the famous Harry Potter, aka “The Boy Who Lived”, defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Bringer of Peace to the British Wizarding community. Mr. Potter also wore formal robes, and (continued on page 2)_  
> 

Hermione thrust the paper aside with a growl and poured a second cup of tea. “I should have left her in the jar.” 

“What was that, love?” Ron walked into the kitchen, set down his sports bag, and kissed her cheek. He snagged a piece of toast from her plate, sat down and poured himself a cup of tea.

“Nothing important.” She glanced down at his bag then at his face. “So…back to the team, is it?”

Ron had the grace to look uncomfortable. “We talked about this, ‘Mione,” he said. “We are in the middle of the season and the Cannons are facing Regulation. I can’t leave the team now for a holiday.”

“Honeymoon.”

He spread jam on his toast and took a bite. “Same thing. C’mon, ‘Mione, I know you don’t go for all that romantic tosh.”

 _Don’t I?_ Hermione sipped her tea and lowered her gaze. She had never broken him of his disgusting habit of talking with food in his mouth, so she did her best to ignore it.

“Sorry, love, I have to go or I’ll miss tonight’s match.” He shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth. He downed it and the rest of his tea in one swallow. Then he rose and kissed her cheek once more. “After the season, we’ll go on a nice long holiday. Anywhere you like—I promise.”

Hermione gazed at him and wondered what had come over her. A month ago, sitting at the dinner table at the Burrow, surrounded by assorted Weasleys and their spouses—for there was no doubt, anyone who married into that clan was a Weasley no matter what their surname or hair color—she had decided to finally break it off with Ron once and for all. Hadn’t she? Hermione shook herself mentally. She’d had a talk with Molly that night and had allowed herself to be persuaded. It seemed so, because now she was married and a Weasley herself. 

Suddenly exhausted, not wanting to get into it with Ron again, she pasted a smile on her face. “Floo me when you can.”

Ron’s smile told her he was relieved she hadn’t pressed him. “I will. Wish us luck!” He waved and was gone.

Hermione’s smile changed to a grimace. “Good luck, indeed. I hope you fall off your broom.”

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~October 13, 2000~
> 
> **Cannons’ Keeper Killed by Rogue Bludger**
> 
> _by Delrad Orfrod Sports Editor_
> 
> _A tragic accident took the life of The Chudley Cannons’ Keeper, and hero of the Second War, Ron “The King” Weasley._
> 
> _The collision occurred during yesterday’s match between the Cannons and the Falmouth Falcons. The Falcons’ beaters executed a perfect Dopplebeater Defense, sending the Bludger hurling toward the Cannons’ side. Unfortunately, the Cannons own beaters were unable to block the Bludger before it slammed into their Keeper’s head, knocking him from his broom. He plunged fifty feet to the pitch._
> 
> _“The blow to his head killed Mr. Weasley instantly.” The healer at the scene reported._
> 
> _Tragically, Mr. Weasley had been married to his life-long love, Hermione Granger-Weasley for less than six months. Because the wedding took place during the height of the Quidditch season, the newly-married couple never had a honeymoon._
> 
> _His widow is in seclusion and the family had no comment.  
> _  
> 

Hermione endured most of the next week in a dry-eyed daze. She was called brave. Stoic. The less charitable whispered other, cruder things. She couldn’t bring herself to care what other people thought. 

The truth was Hermione was numb. 

It had always been Harry, Ron and herself. Without warning, one essential piece of that equation was suddenly, painfully, gone. After the funeral, she fled from Harry and the Weasley clan in order to bury herself in her work, which, at the Department of Mysteries, gave her some level of protection from the world. Not to mention, the Weasleys.

She had never felt so alone.

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~November 27, 2002~
> 
> **Exclusive! Has Hermione Granger found Love Again?**
> 
> _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _Rumor has it that Ms. Granger-Weasley has been seen with a blond wizard in several out of the way places in London. Your faithful correspondent has been on the job for you—my adoring readers!_
> 
> _Mr. Stephen Cornfoot is an investigator for the Misuse of Magical Artifacts Office (formerly the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office). In this reporter’s expert opinion, the close proximity of their Ministry offices brought them together and romance blossomed._
> 
> _The lovebirds have been discrete, but, before he was hexed (how very impolite!), our brilliant photographer snapped this exclusive photo of the sweethearts canoodling over dinner in the very exclusive, very expensive, out of the way restaurant owned by Draco Malfoy…(continued on page 3)_  
> 

Hermione incinerated the paper with a thought. 

Stephen looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow at her. “What has Rita Skeeter written to upset you today, my dear?”

Hermione scowled at him from the opposite end of the sofa. 

“She said we were canoodling at ‘The Dark Side’. Canoodling? I don’t canoodle.”

A predatory smile appeared and his blue eyes darkened to a smolder. Hermione gasped at the swift acceleration of her heartbeat. Stephen’s gaze moved from her eyes, to her lips and lower. His leisurely examination paused on her breasts and the tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip. Hermione’s nipples hardened as heat pooled low in her abdomen. By the time he met her eyes once more, the intensity of Hermione’s desire caused her magic to crackle around and through her. 

Stephen smiled lazily, closed his book and reached across the sofa for her. He dragged her onto his lap and kissed her until they were both breathless.

When she could speak again Hermione gasped, “that’s not ‘canoodling’.” 

Stephen bent his head to capture her lips again, and Hermione forgot about everything else.

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~February 17, 2003~
> 
> **Hermione Granger Elopes!**
> 
> _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _As I have predicted in these pages for months, Hermione Granger and Stephen Cornfoot were married last Friday. The besotted couple eloped to Gretna Green joined only by a few close friends, including Harry Potter and his family._
> 
> _Unfortunately, a nasty shield charm prevented your reporter and her photographer from obtaining any pictures, however we do have an artist’s rendering on page four._
> 
> _It is rumored the couple will honeymoon in America, in the romantic Hawaiian Islands._  
> 

Hermione relaxed on the beautiful white sand beach and sipped her fruity drink. This, truly, was paradise. Two blissful weeks. No nosy reporters, no worries, no duties. 

She glanced at her husband, drowsing in the chair next to hers and smiled. He glanced up and grinned back at her.

“This has been the best time of my life, you know,” she said.

“It’s fun to relax and not think about work, isn’t it?” Stephen asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

“I have to admit, you’re right.” Her answering grin was mischievous. “Especially the “relaxing” part.”

Stephen chucked. “You know, Hermione, I’d really like to go have a look at Kilauea before we leave. I confess I’ve always wanted to see an active volcano up close.”

“I was hoping to spend some more time ‘relaxing’.”

Stephen laughed. “Let’s take an offering to the goddess Pele.” He bent and kissed her until she was breathless. “Then, when we get back, I’ll worship my very own goddess of love in every way.”

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~February 25, 2003~ 
> 
> **Volcano Claims Newlywed Wizard!**
> 
> _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _It is my sad duty to inform you, my faithful readers that Stephen Cornfoot, newly married to Hermione Granger, tragically lost his life while on his honeymoon._
> 
> _The couple was touring the Kilauea volcano when Mr. Cornfoot lost his footing and fell over the edge. He was incinerated in the magma before his wife could draw her wand. Bystanders prevented Mrs. Cornfoot from throwing herself in after him._
> 
> _The tragedy has once again snatched happiness from Mrs. Granger-Cornfoot and left her to soldier bravely on alone._  
> 

As Hermione retreated to their—well, her hotel room, she overheard an ancient, elder Hawaiian murmur that Pele had taken the well-favored young wizard as her own consort. 

Hermione hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob, and then closed and locked the door. After all, the room was paid for until Saturday. She lay down in the suddenly too big, too empty bed. Her heart ached and her eyes burned with unshed tears. As grief overtook her and tears fell at last, she wondered if Pele would welcome another companion.

Three days later, Hermione was roused by a knock on the door. She glared at it for a moment, checked the time—9:45—sighed, and rolled over to face the wall.

There was another, more insistent knock.

The second knock irritated her. Didn’t they see the “Do Not Disturb” sign? Where was the respect for her privacy? Well, she had this room until 11 and she intended to stay right here until her honeymoon was over. Whoever it was could bloody well sod off.

When the lock clicked and the door swung open, she sat up and whipped her wand out, pointing it at the intruder.

Harry let the door close behind him and raised an eyebrow at her. If he was startled, he hid it well. Hermione sighed, lowered her wand and sank back down onto the bed with her back to him.

“Go away, Harry. You’re intruding on my honeymoon.” She stifled a whimper. “I still have another hour and a quarter.”

Harry crossed the room, walked around the bed and sat down. He smoothed her greasy hair from her face.

“I’ve come to fetch you home, Hermione,” he said gently.

“I can’t…I can’t go back there—not to the Ministry, not to our flat. . .I couldn’t bear it. . .not seeing Stephen…” Her voice broke. 

Harry gathered her into his arms, ignoring her half-hearted protests. He held her and rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing noises until he felt her relax against him. 

“Honestly, Harry, what’s the damned point?” Her voice was hoarse with disuse. “I’ve been laying here for three days thinking. And I haven’t come up with one reason for going back to England. Or anywhere, for that matter, except back to that bloody volcano. Ron’s gone. Stephen’s gone. Mum and Dad don’t remember me.” She looked into his eyes. “What is the point of doing anything anymore?” She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I’m just so damned tired.”

Harry continued to rock her, but inside he was panic-stricken. He had seen the depth of her despair in her eyes. It shocked him to his core.

This was _Hermione Granger_ , the brightest witch of her age. Without her, Harry knew, Voldemort would never have been defeated. He had been so happy that she’d found love again after Ron—and to have it snatched away like that—Harry closed his eyes. Stephan was killed right in front of her. Harry shuddered. How would he feel if something like that happened to Ginny? He knew he would be as devastated as Hermione.

He tightened his embrace.

“I’ve never been great with words, as you well know,” he began, “and I’ve never lost anyone close except for Ron. I was a baby when my parents were killed. Sirius I hardly knew—I think with us it was a bit of hero-worship on my part, and him trying to re-live his adventures with my father through me, really. We never had the chance to really get to know each other. But Ron—he was my best mate. I guess you could say he was the first real friend I ever had…or lost.” Harry’s eyes burned with unshed tears. He crushed her to him. “I know I’m being selfish, but I’m asking you to come back for me.” His voice broke. “I can’t lose you too, Hermione. I just can’t.” 

Hermione’s delicate veneer of control shattered. She buried her face in his shoulder. All of her pain, heartbreak and misery poured out of her in huge, hiccoughing sobs. When she had exhausted her tears, and Harry had wept a few of his own, they sat together, drained. 

“You don’t have to go back to the Ministry right away or at all.” Harry murmured. “Take a leave of absence. Come stay with us, let us take care of you for a while.” He tipped her chin up with his finger and gave her a lop-sided grin. “We could use a baby-sitter now and then, you know.”

Hermione closed her eyes with a tired, resigned sigh. “Okay, Harry. Take me home.”

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~July 30, 2003~
> 
> **Hermione Granger Hired at Hogwarts?**
> 
> _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _Darling readers, My little birds have told me there is a better than average chance that Hermione Granger has been hired as the new Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts this year. She joins the other witches and wizards from her school days who have returned to the old familiar corridors; including Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood & Oliver Wood._
> 
> _As we all remember, she left her job at the Ministry of Magic after the tragic death of her second husband, Stephen Cornfoot. Obviously, she could not bear to return to the place where they worked and fell in love…_  
> 

Hermione didn’t need Rita Bloody Skeeter to remind her that teaching at Hogwarts was another way to hide from the world. Damn it, she needed the steadiness and comfort of friends. Frankly, Hogwarts was the closest place she had to a home just now. 

Hermione took the paper and put it underneath her owl’s perch.

**II**

Snape had to admit, his initial trepidation upon being advised that one of the banes of his existence during the Second War would be teaching at Hogwarts had been premature.

In August, before Ms. Granger had arrived, Minerva reminded everyone (with a pointed glare at him for some reason) that Hermione was not the first person to take refuge at Hogwarts, nor would she be the last. When Hermione was introduced at the first staff meeting, he shook her hand and murmured his condolences. He still remembered how the depth of her despair had hit him, and Snape was uncomfortably reminded of the way Lily’s death had affected him.

As the term progressed, Snape was gratified to see that, in spite of her personal tragedies, Professor Granger excelled at teaching. She was respected by the students and the other teachers for her no-nonsense approach. Not to mention her predilection for taking house points from any and every one who deserved it. Even the Gryffindors. All the students knew of the so-called “Golden Trio’s” exploits. Everyone, including himself, had expected her to favor her own house as a result. When she gave detention to the Gryffindor Keeper on the day of their first Quidditch match with Slytherin, even Minerva was shocked. 

Snape smirked. Between detention with Filch and the dressing down Smythe received from Minerva (including threats of more detentions if he put a toe out of line), the little tosser hadn’t hexed any more students. 

Snape’s thoughts moved back to Hermione. During September, she taught her classes, attended staff meetings, Quidditch matches, and patrolled the halls after curfew, but nothing more. Minerva groused that the new professor was almost as reclusive as Snape himself.

In October, much to everyone’s surprise, she attended the Halloween Feast and festivities. She even allowed herself to be persuaded to bob for apples. She succeeded in record time, and then blushed an attractive shade of pink at the cheers she received. As Snape made his way to the punch bowl, he overheard Longbottom mention to Lovegood how glad he was to see Hermione there.

After Halloween, she took a turn at chaperoning Hogsmeade weekends. She had tea with Minerva, discussed the preservation of books with Madam Pince and sneeked down to the kitchens to pilfer biscuits and visit with Winky. She often watched Snape and Flitwick play chess in the staff room.

Once, when Flitwick was in bed with a cold, Snape coaxed her into playing a game. He trounced her handily, but they had such an enjoyable time, they’d taken to meeting once a week for a game and a bottle of wine. The game was usually over quickly, and then they settled down and talked.

Snape found himself looking forward to their weekly get together. He wondered if she anticipated it as much as he.

Sentimental claptrap, he told himself. _But what if she does?_

Snape shook those thoughts from his head. He would stay the course for now. Perhaps ask her out to dinner and see where things went from there. But for now…

Snape glanced at the stack of essays and sighed. He pulled them in front of him once more, picked up his quill and uncapped his red ink.

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~November 27, 2003~
> 
> **Bulgarian Team Arrives for Match**
> 
> _by Delrad Orfrod Sports Editor_
> 
> _The Bulgarian National Quidditch team has arrived ahead of the exhibition match with the UK team on Saturday. The match will be held at the Hogwarts School’s pitch. It will begin promptly at 7 o’clock._
> 
> _The Bulgarian team, led famously by their talented Seeker, Viktor Krum, is expected to give the UK team a rousing good match…_
> 
>   
>  The Daily Prophet ~November 29, 2003~
> 
> **Viktor Krum Miraculously Avoids Serious Injury**
> 
> _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _Darlings! I thought I would be telling you all about the revived romance between Hermione Granger and the seeker from the Bulgarian Quidditch team, Viktor Krum. They were spotted in The Three Broomsticks last night. My spies tell me they were very cozy during their romantic dinner the in the corner booth._
> 
> _The couple left The Three Broomsticks and were about to cross the road when a wizard behind them summoned the Knight Bus._
> 
> _Ms. Granger grabbed Krum’s robes and pulled him out of the way. Her quick thinking saved his life._
> 
> _Doesn’t it seem odd to anyone else that any wizard who shows any romantic interest in Ms. Granger takes his life in his hands, or is it just me?_  
> 

Hermione crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fireplace. She had bid Viktor goodnight and Apparated back to Hogwarts after the incident in spite of his protests. She knew he was hoping to spend more time together, but she had been looking for an excuse to get away. She’d had a lot of thinking to do. 

She hated to admit it, but Rita Skeeter was at least partially right.

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that she’d been cursed. Well, things would have to change back to the way they were when she first arrived at the castle. She drew in a breath and went down to breakfast  
.

* * *

Snape was in danger of wearing a hole through the rug in front of his fireplace with his pacing. Ever since the incident with Krum, sadness hung over Hermione like a shroud. She’d fallen back into the habit of holding everyone at arm’s length—doing her duty and not much else. Even Irma Pince expressed concern that Hermione had not visited the library.

Snape was forced to admit, to himself at least, that he missed Hermione too. Her wildly illogical chess play, their long conversations in front of the fire and especially her smile. Something had to be done to coax her back out of her self-imposed isolation.

Snape went to his desk, sat down and scribbled a note. He went to the owlry, sent it off then returned to his office. He tried not to look too closely at any other motivation he may have for offering his help as he resumed his pacing.

** III **

Hermione hated living this way.

Hiding from everyone—too afraid to get close. Especially since she discovered that she had developed much warmer feelings for Severus over the last month. She distanced herself from everyone, especially Severus; while she visited healers, curse breakers (including Bill Weasley) and anyone else she could think of who might be able to shed some light on her problem. 

No one could find anything. Most thought she was imagining things. Hermione got the impression from many that they were just humoring her because she was a war hero.

Still, Hermione was convinced she was under some sort of curse. She didn’t want to put Severus into danger, but she had the feeling he was the only one who could help her. She sat down at her desk, found a piece of parchment and picked up her quill. Just as she dipped it into the ink, an owl flew into her open window and landed on her desk. The lovely brown raptor held out its leg.

Hermione untied the rolled up parchment and indicated the nearby perch where her own owl, Gerald, moved over to make room. The bird simply blinked at her. 

“Are you to wait for a reply?”

The owl hooted softly in assent. 

“It won’t take a minute. Go ahead and join Gerald on the perch. Have a bit food and water while you wait.”

The bird spread its wings, flew the short distance to the perch, and settled down to enjoy a snack.

Hermione turned her attention to the parchment. She was surprised as she unrolled it to see a very familiar scrawl:

_Hermione,_

_I would like to meet with you as soon as convenient. You haven’t forgotten the location of my office, have you?_

_S. Snape_

Hermione scribbled her reply at the bottom of his message.

_You know I haven’t. We both have a free period after lunch. Is that too soon? ~H._

* * *

The knock came five minutes after the bell had rung for the start of classes after lunch.

“Enter.”

The door opened. Snape rose as Hermione walked into his office.

She had pulled her wild mane of hair into a negligent ponytail which, he couldn’t help noticing, enhanced her exquisite cheekbones and large brown eyes that had dark shadows underneath which spoke of sleepless nights. She had lost weight, and her jeans hung on her hips. However, the yellow tee shirt she wore accentuated certain other assets. 

Snape shoved the inappropriate thoughts about Hermione’s “assets” to the back of his mind with an inward growl. He had been having far too many of those recently.

“Please, come through, Hermione.” He ushered her into his sitting room. He waved her toward one of the leather wing-back chairs in front of the blazing fireplace, and then seated himself in the other. Snape templed his fingers and looked over them at her.

“I believe you have been cursed.”

“I think I’m cursed.”

They had spoken at the same time.

Snape was impressed. Granger had made the announcement dispassionately, as if she was talking about the weather.

“I would like to offer my assistance.”

“Thank you, I would be grateful for your help.” Hermione settled back into the chair and crossed her legs. “I’ve been to healers and curse breakers and no one has been able to detect any known curse. But there must be—something. It is the only explanation for,” she waved a hand helplessly. “Everything.”

“With your permission, I will perform a diagnostic spell of my own invention.”

Snape rose and withdrew his wand. He didn’t miss the twitch of her hand toward her own and was impressed. Good. She still had the reflexes she’d learned during the war. Those reflexes had saved Krum’s life and would be helpful if she agreed to his plan. She sent an abashed glance his way. Snape couldn’t stop his mouth from turning up on one side. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She got to her feet.

Snape began the incantation. Blue vapor flowed from the tip of his wand. He continued to chant as he wove the blue wisp of magic into an intricate pattern around her. Hermione stood perfectly still, her eyes closed. Snape twined the magic around her hips, her waist, and, when he got to her chest, suddenly the cool blue vapor turned violent red—right over her heart. As Snape finished the diagnostic, another spot of bright red vapor appeared to envelop the crown of her head. Snape waved his wand and the vapor dissolved. 

“Thank you, Hermione, you may be seated.”

The young woman settled back into her chair as Snape lowered himself into the other. She looked at him expectantly.

“Our hypothesis appears to be incorrect. You are not cursed—at least not in the customary sense.”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He could practically see her absorbing the information and gathering herself before she reopened her eyes and focused on him.

“That would explain why Bill Weasley couldn’t find anything. If it’s not a curse then what is it?”

“It appears to be a combination of binding and fidelity spells,” he said. “I have never seen anything like it.”

Her smile was grim. “I don’t suppose a simple _Finite Incantatem_ will work?”

Snape took out his wand again. “ _Finite Incantatem!_ ” The magic glowed like an aura around her then dissipated. “It seems only the caster has the power to release the spell in that way.”

Hermione shrugged. “It was worth a try.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Binding and fidelity? That explains why every man I show any romantic interest in winds up dead. Or nearly so, in Viktor’s case.”

“That is correct. The magic is concentrated in the area of your heart and deep inside your brain.”

“I see. Although the heart is associated with romance, emotion actually occurs in the brain.”

“Yes.”

She buried her face in her hands and murmured. “Poor Stephen, he never had a chance.” A tear slipped down her cheek which she scrubbed away impatiently. Hermione drew in a shuddering breath and met his empathetic gaze. “It is getting worse—working faster, if what happened with Viktor is any indication.”

“I know what Rita Skeeter thinks, but do you really think that this spell or curse is the reason for Krum’s accident?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t have any romantic feelings for him, do you?”

“No. But what else could explain what happened?”

“Coincidence. A freak accident. Incredibly bad or good luck on Krum’s part—however you choose to look at it.” 

Hermione’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Perhaps.” 

“It is just too freaky. First Ron, then Stephen, and then Viktor.” She sighed. “Do you have any ideas about how to get rid of—whatever it is?”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, Snape was unaccountably nervous. He desperately wanted to help this young woman—but his motivation was not entirely altruistic. He was horrified to feel his face grow warm. He broke eye contact and used his old trick of letting his hair cover his face when he spoke.

“I suggest that you and I begin—for lack of a better term—dating.” His face felt like it was going to burst into flame. “As an experiment. To try to trigger the spell.” He glanced sideways at her through the curtain of his hair to ascertain her reaction.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll meet with some horrific accident and die?”

The bitterness in her voice steadied him and he snorted in derision. Snape shook his hair back in order to meet her gaze. “You do recall that I worked for two of the most arrogant, not to mention megalomaniacal, wizards of all time—and survived?”

“Barely,” she reminded him. “If I hadn’t dragged Harry back to the Shrieking Shack…”

Snape bristled. “Give me a little credit, Professor Granger. I did prepare myself for that eventuality, you know.”

She smiled. “And we are all grateful you did.”

Snape felt his indignation melt away. “As am I.” He straightened. “Back to the subject at hand—is my plan acceptable to you?”

Hermione leaned forward and looked deep into his eyes. Snape gazed back blandly while occluding fiercely. He was a bit surprised that she had attempted Legilimency without permission. He crossed his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows.

Hermione dropped her gaze with a sigh and rubbed her temples. “I should have known I couldn’t catch you off guard,” she grumbled. “Severus, I-I have come to care for you. I can’t ask you to take such a risk.”

 _I’ve come to care for you._ Elation soared within, but Snape kept his expression neutral. “You are not asking, I am volunteering.”

Hermione looked at him sharply. “I almost didn’t survive the loss of Stephen.” She sighed and looked down at her hands. “I have nothing left in reserve emotionally, Severus. If anything happened to you…the guilt would be too much for me to bear.” It was a statement and a warning.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he straightened. The tone of his voice was the cold, “Professor Snape: Double Agent” timbre he hadn’t used in years.

“Tell me, Professor Granger. Are you are willing to spend the rest of your life alone and celibate? Give up all hope of love, family, and children?” His words were harsher than he’d intended, meant to shock. He met her grim gaze and continued.

“I have done that. Believe me; living that way is worse than death.” He lowered his gaze and fought to maintain control of his emotions. _How many times had he wished for death? How many years did he suffer with no one but Dumbledore, his puppet master, as his only confidant?_ Snape shook those thoughts from his mind and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “Hermione—I have come to care about you, too. And I fully understand the risk—to both of us. Please—allow me to help you.”

He watched Hermione’s anger dissipate. She seemed to deflate as she sank back into the chair. Her eyes were haunted when she met his. “All right, _Severus_ ,” she whispered. “Merlin help us both.”

** IV **

>   
> The Daily Prophet ~December 14, 2003~
> 
> **Has Severus Snape Found Love Again? Will He Live Through It?**
> 
> _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _Faithful readers, your intrepid correspondent comes to you with unbelievable news! It has been confirmed by my little birds around London that none other than Severus Snape has been seen squiring Hermione Granger all over town._
> 
> _You are all familiar with Professor Snape’s heroics as a double agent during the Second War against You-Know-Who which garnered him a well-deserved Order of Merlin, First Class._
> 
> _He survived Nagini’s bite—can he survive Hermione Granger? Stay tuned!_  
> 

Snape crushed the paper and tossed it into the fire. Once again, Rita Skeeter was wrong. 

Oh, he and Hermione had gone out many times over the last month. They had been to the theatre, the British Museum, the London Eye, a cruise on the Thames, and to a variety of restaurants both Wizard and Muggle. They had spent Christmas at the castle. It was the first Christmas he had truly enjoyed in years. The scarf she had knitted for him was soft and warm. And she seemed to appreciate the 12th century copy of “Hogwarts, A History” he’d found among his bookshelves. He enjoyed her company even more than he’d expected. Her impish humor, her knowledge of so many diverse subjects (which she demonstrated with a decided lack of “know-it-all-ness” much to his relief), her large brown eyes, her curvy figure…

Snape shook himself. That he was becoming more enamored of Hermione should not have been a surprise, and yet—surprisingly—the place in his heart where Lily had resided for so many years was suddenly filled with Hermione. Lily had been regulated to the place she belonged, firmly in the past as his first love.

Hermione was his future.

Snape scowled. If he could break down her defenses, that is. In spite of his growing affection for her, nothing had yet happened to threaten his life. That fact proved to Snape that this spell, curse, whatever it was, was triggered only when Hermione’s own feelings were engaged. And, thus far, in spite admitting that she had come to care for him, she had kept a tight rein on them. He had to find a way to coax her to relax her defenses.

Snape allowed his mind to wander as he stared into the fire. It had burned down to coals by the time an idea took shape. Snape examined it carefully, decided it would do and summoned a quill and parchment.

The next morning, Snape sat in the Great Hall enjoying his breakfast of tea and toast. A flurry of wings signaled the arrival of the owl post. Snape paid the delivery owl, opened the Daily Prophet and pretended to read. He slid his chair back a little and glanced sideways. From this angle, he could see Hermione, who was seated a few places down from him. The look of surprise on her face when a second owl landed before her and stuck out its foot was gratifying. She unrolled the parchment and read it. She frowned and worried her bottom lip with her teeth before she rolled it up and tucked it into her robes, away from the curious eyes of Professors Longbottom and Flitwick. 

Smiling inwardly, Snape turned his attention back to his breakfast and newspaper.

* * *

Hermione leaned against the battlement of the Astronomy Tower, took out the parchment she’d received at breakfast and read it again.

_Hermione,_

_Please meet me tonight in the Astronomy tower after curfew._

_Yours,_

_S. Snape_

Why did he want to meet her here? Things were going well so far with their plan, she thought. Hermione had to admit, she really enjoyed being with Snape. He was a brilliant conversationalist with a sly, sardonic sense of humor. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her feelings under control, in spite of her determination to protect herself, and him. 

“Good evening, Hermione.”

She started at the sound of his voice. She turned and met black eyes glinting with humor.

“You really enjoy sneaking up on people, don’t you?” Nerves caused it to come out more harshly than she’d intended.

Snape shrugged. “It is good to practice. Keeps my reputation of being a vampire or bat or whatever creature of the week is currently circulating amongst the students.”

“Why did you want to meet me here?”

Snape leaned beside her against the battlement, disconcertingly close. Hermione could feel the heat of his body through her clothing and took a step sideways to put some space between them.

Snape looked down and heaved a sigh. “To tell you that I cannot continue to see you.”

Hermione felt a chasm open inside of her into which her heart plunged. She swallowed the lump in her throat and whispered. “Why?”

“I am—I have—my feelings for you are growing stronger.” 

Hermione was confused. “So—why do you want to stop seeing me? Don’t such feelings usually mean an increase of time spent together?”

“Usually—when both hearts are engaged.” He grasped her upper arms and turned her to face him. His eyes were bleak. “In spite of your best intentions, I don’t believe that you are allowing yourself to let go of your feelings, Hermione.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I won’t risk your life.”

His smile was melancholy. “I understand your reasons. However, I spent half of my life loving one woman who didn’t love me in return. I cannot—no, I will not—go through that again.”

Snape cupped her face in his hands, lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and oh, so tender. He brushed his tongue against her mouth seeking entry. A bolt of heat shot straight through her and ignited the desire she had kept so carefully damped down.

Hermione relented with a whimper. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his and kissed him back. She was thrilled and terrified at the same time. She did her best to communicate her conflicted feelings to him through the kiss.

A sickening shriek of stone against stone was the only warning. Hermione tore herself away from Snape, whipped out her wand and shouted, “ _Repello Snape!_ ”

Snape was propelled away by the blast of magic from her wand. The recoil threw Hermione a couple of meters in the other direction. She landed flat on her back just as part of the parapet where they had just been standing, tore away and crashed to the ground. 

In seconds, Snape was kneeling beside her, his wand in his hand. When she moved to sit up, he stopped her and asked, “Are you injured?” 

She shook her head.

“Good. Please lay still for a moment, Hermione. I will attempt to determine if there is…” His voice trailed off as he concentrated on tracing a complicated pattern with his wand. “…any residual magic…”

Hermione was happy to lie on her back where she’d landed. Her heart was hammering so hard, she was afraid it would beat its way out of her chest. _If anything had happened to him…_ She closed her eyes. Tears of shock and relief seeped from the corners of her eyes. 

When Snape finished, he pulled her onto his lap. Hermione laid her head against his warm chest and started to shake.

“It’s all right now, Hermione.” Snape murmured.

“It’s not,” she replied. “You were very nearly killed.”

“ _We_ were very nearly killed. Thanks to your quick reflexes, we are both safe.”

Hermione was still terrified and wasn’t interested in being logical. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, you, you—dunderhead!”

Snape’s chuckle was a low rumble. “I suppose you’re right, since I was distracted enough not to notice the danger.” He smoothed back her hair and nuzzled her ear, tracing it with his tongue before sucking gently on the lobe. “In fact, I believe I have become distracted yet again.”

How was she supposed to stay angry with him when he did that? “Stop trying to change the subject.”

She felt the smile on his lips as he kissed his way across her cheek toward her mouth. “But I find this so much more fascinating, don’t you?” He said before he captured her lips in a searing kiss. 

Hermione slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, luxuriating in the feel of his mouth on hers. Reluctantly, she ended the kiss, leaned her head back and looked into his eyes.

“Let’s not press our luck, okay?” She murmured. “One attempt on your life per night is my absolute limit.”

Snape’s eyes glinted and he ran a hand slowly along her inner thigh. “There are benefits to living dangerously.”

The heat from his touch pooled low in her abdomen and she considered, just for a moment, giving in to the passion his touch promised.

“Severus, you have no idea how tempted I am.” She kissed him again to emphasize her words. “But, I won’t risk it for a quick tumble.” She disentangled herself from his lap and scrambled to her feet.

“Who said anything about ‘quick’?” He grumbled as he rose.

Humor shone in her eyes as she kissed his nose. “I intend to give you every chance to prove your stamina to me, Severus. After we get rid of this damned curse. Did you find any ‘residual magic’ before?”

“I did, but I would rather discuss it somewhere a bit warmer.” He smirked at her. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine is closer.” 

Before long, she and Snape were in her sitting room, comfortably seated on her sofa in front of a roaring fire, sipping brandy. 

“So, what did you find?”

“The red aura around your heart and head were both encircled with a tinge of orange.” Snape took another sip of his brandy as he gazed into the fire. “What I don’t understand is why orange?” He met her gaze. “What comes to mind when you think of orange?”

“Weasleys.” She answered promptly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Are you being serious?”

“Of course. The color orange has always made me think of the Weasley family ever since I met Ron.”

Hermione watched as his face became thoughtful. “Do you mind if I ask a very personal question regarding Ronald Weasley?”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of her brandy before she spoke. “I don’t mind, if it will help.” She took a deep breath and met his dark eyes.

“I seem to recall, starting about six months after the war and right up until you married Weasley, our good friend Rita Skeeter was convinced that you were ready to throw him over. Is that true?”

“To be honest, I don’t recall much about the time right before the wedding.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You know, Hermione, I never thought that you and Weasley had anything in common. I did not understand why you married him in the first place.”

Hermione frowned as she thought back. The memories were ethereal and fleeting. They seemed to center on the Burrow. She closed her eyes in order to focus her attention on the elusive memory. “Ever since the War, the Weasleys have a monthly dinner—at the Burrow—the entire family attends…it is expected.” The glimpses were frustratingly brief. “In May I wanted to do something else—or perhaps there was a work deadline or something…I did not want to go for whatever reason…but…Ron was not willing to risk the wrath of Molly…I mean, for Merlin’s sake, it was one dinner.” She sighed. “We had a flaming row, and I went just to shut him up. I was going to break it off with him…so sick of being treated second best to his family, to Quidditch…then—then—the next thing I remember clearly is making wedding plans.”

When Hermione opened her eyes, Severus’ face was troubled. “The fact that you cannot recall such an important decision as your change of heart regarding marrying Weasley seems a bit odd to me.” He raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.

“You’re right.” Hermione suddenly felt cold all over in spite of the fire. Her voice fell to a whisper. “It’s as if I’ve been Obliviated.”

“I would say that is a logical assumption.” Severus was utterly still, yet his black eyes sparked with fury. “And if that is the case…Hermione,” he drew his wand. “Will you allow me to use Legilimency?” 

Hermione dropped her gaze to her hands and chewed on her bottom lip. She had spent the years since the war learning both Legilimency and Occlumency in order to protect herself. Had those lessons been too late? A year after the war, when she was engaged to Ron, she had been a barely competent Occlumens, and found it so mentally exhausting that she did not Occlude when she was among people she trusted. 

Like the Weasleys. 

She looked up and met Snape’s empathetic gaze. “I’m frightened, Severus.”

His voice was gruff. “I know.”

Hermione realized that he was not trying to coerce her—he would allow her to make her own decision—one way or the other. “There really is no other way, is there?”

It was his turn to sigh. “If you choose not to do it, we will still discover what has happened to you. It will simply take longer.”

Hermione picked up her glass and drank the rest of her brandy. The liquid burned on the way down, then spread warmth though her body. She straightened and looked into his eyes.

“I don’t want to wait any longer to get rid of this spell.” She reached over and laid a hand on his thigh. “Not to mention giving you a chance to prove just how much stamina you have.” 

Snape’s smile was wicked. “I look forward to it. Are you ready?” She nodded. “ _Legilimens._ ” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Hermione, you have to stop Occluding if this is going to be successful.”

Her face grew warm. “Sorry—habit.” She closed her eyes for a moment then reopened them. “I’m ready now.”

** V **

Snape allowed himself a moment of elation at her demonstration of trust before he met her eyes and murmured _Legilimens_ once more.

This time he found himself falling through those chocolate brown eyes and into her mind. Snape was presented with a long corridor lined with doors. The first one was labeled ‘Severus’. He reached out and tried the knob.

Locked. _Should have expected that. She isn’t going to let you snoop._

Suddenly it appeared as if the doors were moving past him at an alarming rate. As they slowed, he glimpsed ‘Hogwarts’, ‘Harry’, ‘Stephen’, ‘Ministry’ and finally he came to a door which appeared to be closed in by a brick wall. Several of the bricks were cracked and a couple were missing.

It seemed that he’d found the memory in question.

Snape knew he had to be careful. He didn’t want to damage her mind as he broke through the memory charm. It was fortunate that the charm had already been damaged when Hermione attempted to recall the events in the Burrow before her marriage to Weasley. Snape picked up the hammer and chisel he found lying there and went to work.

He chipped away the mortar first. Once that was finished, he removed a brick and laid it aside. Then he moved to the next. Chip away the mortar. Remove the brick. Again and again, slowly, carefully. At last, he had removed enough bricks to uncover the doorknob. He grasped it and it turned easily.

Snape pushed the door open. 

It was a lovely spring day. The sky was clear and blue. He was walking beside Ron Weasley, up the hill toward the haphazard house known as the Burrow. In the yard was a long table surrounded by chairs. It was set with a white tablecloth and mismatched dishes.

“Thanks for coming, ‘Mione. You know how mum is about the monthly family dinner.”

She flinched at the hated nickname. She was so sick of repeating herself to him. He paid absolutely no attention to her wishes on so many things. She huffed. “I have a project due at work on Monday, Ronald.”

“It’s only Friday. You have plenty of time to finish. You’ve probably got it all sorted by now anyway, if I know you, and just need to color code everything.” He snickered at his own joke.

Hermione fumed. She was sick of his “jokes”, sick of his mother and heartily sick of him. This was the last straw. Tonight, when he dropped her at her flat, she was breaking it off with him.

Dinner was a blur. The Weasleys and their spouses talked and laughed and joked with each other and did not seem to notice that Hermione was not contributing to the conversation. She pushed the food around her plate until everyone was finished. She rose and helped the other women clear up. 

Finally, it was just Hermione and Molly in the kitchen.

“Molly, I want to talk to you for a moment.”

“Yes, dear?”

“It’s about Ron and me.”

Molly’s face split into a smile. “Have you two finally set the date? Oh, let’s gather the others, they should hear the news too!”

Hermione laid her hand on the other woman’s arm, stopping her. “No, Molly—please, don’t. It’s—it’s not that, we haven’t set a date.”

“Oh, very well then, what is it?” Disappointment dripped from every word.

“I do not intend to marry Ron.”

Molly looked at her for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Oh, Hermione, dear. You looked so serious just then.” She shook her finger. “That was a very good practical joke. You’ll fit right in with our family, I’ve always said so!”

Hermione closed her eyes, prayed for strength then reopened them. “I’m not joking, Molly. I won’t be coming to any more monthly dinners. I am leaving Ron tonight.”

Molly’s smile disappeared and her face twisted in outrage. She whipped out her wand and snarled, “Imperio.”

Hermione was taken utterly by surprise and stood helpless and terrified before the enraged witch. 

“You will not break up with Ron. In fact, you will set the wedding date for June 15th, one month from now. You will do this tonight, before you leave this house. You will allow me to plan the wedding. I’ll take care of everything. It will be beautiful. You won’t remember anyway. After you say ‘I do’, you’ll be free again, but you won’t remember this part.

“So very high and mighty, thinking because you’re smart you’re better than everyone else. Well, who’s the better witch now, eh?” Molly muttered as she closed the distance between them. She pressed her wand against Hermione’s chest. “Just one more tiny detail. A little spell I invented myself. An extra little ‘incentive’, if you like.” Molly’s smile was slightly deranged. She stepped back, made a series of complex movements with her wand and murmured an incantation.

“ _Adtraxi Hermione to Ronald exclusiva. Alligare id una aeternus et quom divisim per fati._ ”

A blood-red rivulet flowed from the tip of Molly’s wand and formed itself into the shape of a heart. With a flick of her wand, the heart split into two pieces, formed into smaller hearts and then hurdled themselves into Hermione’s chest and head. Apparently satisfied, Molly released Hermione with a wave of her wand.

Snape withdrew from Hermione’s mind. His vision cleared. She sat next to him with tears streaming unheeded down her face. He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms protectively around her. She laid her head on his shoulder. 

“How could she do this to me?”

Snape privately wondered the same thing. “Do not think of that at the moment. It’s late. We’re both exhausted. We shall continue tomorrow, after work.”

***

The next day, after curfew, they met once again in Hermione’s sitting room.

After pouring them each a glass of wine, Hermione began without preamble. “The words of the spell Molly used translate loosely as: ‘Draw Hermione to Ronald exclusively. Bind them together eternally even when parted by death.’”

“Yes, that was how I translated it.”

Hermione’s grip tightened on her glass. “So, apparently, Ron’s death was an accident. So was the thing with the Knight Bus and Viktor. But what happened to Stephen, and you—was a direct result of that spell because my emotions were engaged. And the spell is reacting more quickly, too.” She looked into his eyes. Hermione’s voice was a growl. “She’s a murderer.”

“Hermione—please. Let’s not jump to any conclusions. That spell—that is not like Molly.”

He was defending her? Hermione glared at him. “I suppose Imperio is?” Her voice was frosty.

“Of course it isn’t!” Snape rubbed his temples and Hermione had the feeling that he was fighting to keep his irritation under control. “I’ve been thinking about Molly Weasley today. The way she was after the war.” When Hermione would have interrupted, he held up his hand. “Hear me out.” He ticked off on his fingers. “She was still overwrought by Fred’s death. She didn’t know how much the lycanthropy would affect Bill or his children. Hence the compulsory monthly dinners. It gave her a chance to have all of her family together again. She was undoubtedly proud to think that all three of the so-called ‘Golden Trio’ would be a part of her family. She was blind to Ron’s faults and his unsuitability for you.” Severus sipped his wine and met her gaze. “When she saw her “family” being threatened again, she reacted. I do not believe she was in her right mind at the time, based on my observation of your memory.”

Hermione sat silently and considered his words. After a couple of minutes she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “She seemed like the same old Molly I grew up with the last time I saw her.” 

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I went to the ‘monthly dinner’ last week. I had Bill check me over before I left.” Hermione worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “What is our next move?”

“I think we have to meet with Arthur and tell him everything.”

A shiver of trepidation crept down her spine. “I agree.”

“I am relieved to hear it. I’ve already sent an owl. Arthur will meet with us tomorrow afternoon.”

** VI **

“Severus! Hermione! Come in, come in. Have a seat.” Arthur ushered them into his office. He shook Severus’ hand, hugged Hermione and waved them into the chairs in front of his desk as he took his own seat behind it. “Tea? Something stronger? No?” He leaned forward, clasping his hands on top of his desk and beamed at them. “So, is what I’ve been reading in the papers about you two true?”

Hermione felt her face grow hot and didn’t dare look at Severus. “Well, we have been going out, that much is true.” She wasn’t sure how much Severus wanted to share, if anything.

Severus glanced at her. “Hermione and I have discovered we have much in common.” He met Arthur’s eyes. “And have been getting to know each other better.” 

Arthur frowned. “How much better?” 

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Hermione interrupted. “But that is none of your business.”

Arthur had the grace to flush. “Sorry, Hermione, you’re right. Old habits, you know?” He straightened. “What can I do for you?”

Severus glanced at Hermione. He raised his eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes. She shook her head infinitesimally. She would handle this herself.

“Arthur,” she began. “I need your help.”

“If it’s within my power, you know I’ll be happy to help you.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip, at a loss. _How could she tell him? He might not believe her—and she wouldn’t blame him one bit. She wouldn’t have believed it herself if not for…_ She glanced around his office and her eyes widened

“I think you might understand better if I show you—it is an old memory which Severus helped me unlock. May I use your Pensieve?”

Arthur was taken aback by her request but rose and waved his wand. The Pensieve rose from its place on a corner table, floated over and settled onto his desk.

Hermione took her wand, set it against her head and drew the wispy memory strand out and dropped it into the Pensieve. She looked at Arthur. “Go ahead, Arthur. Once you’ve seen it, you’ll understand why we’re here and why I need your help.”

Arthur’s expression became rueful. “I’m not going to like what I see in there, am I?”

Snape’s gaze was unflinching. “No.”

“Thought not.” He sighed, and then bent over the stone basin and plunged his face into the swirling, silvery light. 

Hermione dug her fingers into the arms of her chair. Her heart ached for the kind, gentle man before her who was, even now, witnessing his wife doing the unspeakable. As the minutes ticked away, her nerves were stretched to near breaking as she waited. She jumped with a start when Snape reached over and grasped her hand. 

“Relax.” His black eyes were warm with empathy. “Your ordeal will soon be over.”

“I hope so.”

“Once it is, then you and I will be free to...”

Snape stopped speaking abruptly and snatched his hand back.

Arthur lifted his face from the Pensieve. He turned his horrified gaze to meet Hermione’s compassionate one. His voice was a ragged whisper when he spoke. “Merlin’s sacred bones.” He raised his trembling hands to rub his temples. “I had no idea—I mean, I knew she had been affected by the war, Fred’s death, killing Bellatrix Lestrange—but I honestly thought that by then, she was putting it all behind her.” He closed his eyes and fought for control of himself. 

Hermione lifted her wand. “ _Muffliato._ Arthur,” Hermione said gently. “I am not here to condemn Molly, nor accuse her. I have no desire to see her arrested or put on trial. All I want is for her to remove this spell from me so I can…” She glanced at Snape then quickly looked away. She cleared her throat. “Well, that’s why I need your help.” 

The red-haired wizard heaved a sigh and opened his eyes. His voice was plaintive. “My wife used an,” he glanced around and lowered his voice, “ _Unforgiveable_ curse on you, Hermione. On _you_. You are like family to us—how could she?” 

“Arthur,” Snape said. “Molly was not in her right mind. It is obvious to anyone who has seen that memory. I think it is to everyone’s benefit to keep this quiet.”  
“How can we keep it quiet?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I can just see Rita Skeeter’s gleeful headline: ‘Minister’s Wife Uses Unforgiveable to Ensure Son’s Marriage’.”

“The most secure place I know is Hogwarts,” Snape said. “It would not seem strange for you and Molly to come there for a visit.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “And, I hate to break it to you Arthur but, Rita Skeeter is not interested in you. Hermione and I will provide a diversion while you take Molly to the castle for a visit, shall we say on Friday evening? We will bring Minerva into our confidence. You two have dinner with the Headmistress and some of the other professors while Hermione and I go out.” His dark eyes sparked with humor. “Who do you think Rita will follow?”

***

>   
> The Evening Prophet ~January 16, 2004~
> 
> **Hogwarts Professors Study Each Other Intimately Over Dinner**  
>  _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _Darlings! Guess who was spotted in a corner booth at ‘The Dark Side’ tonight? None other than Professors Granger and Snape. They sat close together…he had his arm around her! The way they were “studying” each other, it’s obvious to anyone looking that they are smitten. In fact, they never noticed our photographer, who snapped this picture of Professor Snape kissing Professor Granger’s hand in the most romantic manner! Are wedding bells in their future? Stay tuned!_  
> 

Snape and Hermione stood outside the Headmistress’ office. He looked at her and caught her chewing her bottom lip again. 

“Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

Snape drew her into his arms. He loved the way their bodies fit together, as if they were made for each other. He cupped her chin with his hand, lifted her face and bent his head to brush her lips with his. Her response was warm, passionate, and promised him everything. He drew away reluctantly and wondered if he looked as fully snogged as she did. He cleared his throat and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Hermione’s back straightened as he pushed the door open and ushered her inside.

“Severus! Hermione! How lovely to see you.” Minerva smiled and rose from her chair by the fireplace. “I was just pouring tea. Come in and sit down.”

Arthur and Molly had gotten to their feet as well. Hermione went over and hugged them both. “I was hoping to catch you two before you left,” she said.

Severus conjured a settee and they sat down together. Hermione glanced up, startled, when he took her hand. Everyone made small talk while Minerva served the tea and then reseated herself.

“So,” Molly smiled. “I see that apparently, Rita Skeeter has gotten something right, for once.”

“Yes,” Snape admitted. “Hermione and I have come to care for each other.”

Molly’s face lit up and she clapped her hands with delight. “How wonderful! I’m so happy for you both. Aren’t you, Arthur dear?”

Arthur fidgeted in his seat, unable to look at them. “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Hermione said. “Your support means the world to me.” She looked into the other witch’s eyes. “Because I need your help.”

Molly laughed. “Oh, I don’t think you need my help.”

“But I do.” Something in Hermione’s voice extinguished Molly’s laughter. 

“Hermione? What is it? How can I help you?”

Hermione’s grip on Severus’ hand tightened. “I need you to take off the spell you cast on me before Ron and I married, please.”

Molly blanched, recovered quickly and forced a laugh. “Whatever are you talking about?” Her laughter trailed off as she glanced around and noticed that everyone was looking solemnly at her.

“ _Adtraxi Hermione to Ronald exclusiva. Alligare id una aeternus et quom divisim per fati._ ” Hermione intoned in a low tone, never taking her eyes off Molly’s.

The red-haired witch scowled. “That’s not how it goes. It’s _Adtraxi Hermione to Ronald exclusiva. Alligare id una aeternus ad quom divisim per fati._ I created it myself, I should know the incantation. It’s ‘until parted by death’ not ‘even when parted by death’.”

Minerva leaned forward. “Molly. Why did you cast a spell on Hermione at all?”

Molly stood and began to pace back and forth in agitation. “She was going to leave Ron. It would have broken his heart. I knew she really loved him deep down; she was just getting a bit of cold feet. That’s all. I knew all it would take was a bit of a nudge.” She stopped in front of Hermione and smiled fondly. “And it worked. She married Ron and they were so happy. Until,” her face crumpled. “He died.” Arthur rose and gathered her into his arms. After a few moments, she composed herself. “The spell broke when my son died. I’m not sorry. He died happy in the knowledge that his wife loved him.”

Arthur used a finger to tip her face upward. “But, Molly, my dear—Hermione has the right of it. The incantation you used was the one she quoted. I saw the memory in my Pensieve.”

Molly’s face paled, her legs seemed to give out, and she would have fallen to the floor if Arthur hadn’t been holding her. “You saw…? Arthur, you _saw_?”

“Yes, my love. I did.”

“What must you think of me,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide with dread.

Arthur crushed her to him. “I love you with all my heart, of course, my dearest Mollywobbles.” He kissed her tenderly. “Nothing will ever change that fact.”

“I don’t deserve you! Oh, Arthur, I don’t.” She sobbed brokenheartedly against his chest. Arthur murmured comforting words to her, his voice low and intimate.

Severus glanced at Hermione. Tears were rolling unheeded down her cheeks. He reached into a pocket, withdrew a handkerchief, and then handed it to her. She took it and used it to both dry and hide her face as she brought her emotions under control. The smile she gave him was a bit damp, but filled with relief.

Minerva cleared her throat as she tucked away her own handkerchief. “Molly, nothing said here tonight will leave this room. We will use a variation of the Fidelius Charm. Arthur, of course, will be the secret-keeper.” Minerva summoned a bottle of scotch and five glasses. “Now, Molly, dear. Please. I have no desire to lose my Potions Master.”

Molly straightened, turned and withdrew her wand. Hermione stood, still holding Snape’s hand.

“ _Finite Incantatem._

A silver thread of magic flowed from Molly’s wand, wrapped itself around Hermione, turned blood-red, and then wafted away. 

Hermione closed the distance between them and wrapped Molly in a hug. “Thank you.”

The older woman hugged her back fiercely. “I’m so very sorry, Hermione. Please forgive me. I was a bit mad for a couple of years after the war.”

“We all were, I think.”

Everyone accepted a glass from Minerva. After they drank, the Headmistress performed the Fidelius Charm and then shooed everyone out of her office.

Severus and Hermione escorted the Weasleys to the gates and bid them farewell. After they had Apparated, Severus took Hermione’s hand and they walked back to the castle together. Hermione seemed lost in thought, so he walked beside her in silence. Now that the spell had been broken, he intended to pursue her with all the determination he possessed. There was definitely something between them, something special and he would be damned if he allowed anything to keep him from exploring every bit of it.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at her quarters. Hermione turned to face him, rose up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. Severus wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. His tongue sought entrance to her mouth, it was granted and welcomed. Their tongues teased and tangled with no clear winner and left them both breathless. Severus leaned his forehead against hers. He looked deep into her eyes. 

Hermione’s smile was sultry and inviting. She opened the door, dragged him inside then slammed it closed.

>   
> The Evening Prophet ~June 26, 2004~
> 
> **Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Wed!**  
>  _by Rita Skeeter_
> 
> _My dear readers, the long-rumored nuptials have finally taken place! Yours truly was contacted by one of the lucky few who attended the oh-so-private ceremony. The besotted couple exchanged vows in the Great Hall, with the Minister of Magic presiding._
> 
> _The bride wore a simple, pale green, chiffon gown with a sweetheart neckline. It was embellished with rosettes at the empire waist and beaded straps. A blusher veil ornamented with a flower-shaped peacock feather was perched on her head. Her bushy hair was tamed (somehow) and gathered into a mass of curls atop her head which cascaded down her back. She carried a bouquet of bluebells. By all accounts, she looked radiant as she walked down the aisle._
> 
> _Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stood with the bride, wearing dark green dress robes and a shawl of her green tartan._
> 
> _Professor Snape eschewed his usual black frock coat and school robes for a traditional Morning suit. The coat was black (of course!) with curved front, full tails and a single button. He wore a white shirt. His trousers were grey Butcher stripe and his waistcoat and tie were grey; the tie being slightly darker. My little bird said it had never seen Professor Snape looking so dashing or so happy._
> 
> _Lucius Malfoy accompanied him as the best man, wearing dark green dress robes._
> 
> _The guest list was short, but a veritable Who’s Who of heroes and veterans from the Second War. (Complete guest list on page 4)_
> 
> _The couple plan to honeymoon in Italy and will return to Hogwarts for the new term in September. (More wedding coverage on page 3)_

Hermione tossed the paper aside and grinned at Severus across the breakfast table in their hotel room. “I wonder who Rita Skeeter will write about now that I’m a boring, curse-less, old married woman and you’re no longer the Wizarding world’s most eligible wizard.”

Snape snorted. “First of all—you are neither old, nor boring. Secondly, I have never been the most eligible wizard of anything. Even after his marriage, I think that title has been Potter’s, my dear.” He smiled over his cup of tea. “You are biased.”

“True, but you can hardly blame me. You certainly have backed up your stamina claims, and then some.”

Severus smirked. “Was there any doubt?”

“Well, you are almost twice my age—and you’ve got a bit of mileage on you.” 

He arched an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t hear any complaints last night. Or yesterday afternoon. Or morning. Or the night before…”

Hermione’s eyes darkened with desire. She put down her teacup and moved to sit on his lap. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Severus,” she murmured against his lips. “Let’s skip the tour of the Coliseum today and just stay in our room.”

“Again?” 

“Let’s just say, I’m not taking any chances with rogue Bludgers, volcanos, the Knight Bus, or anything else when it comes to you.” She smiled and kissed him again. “I still intend to beat you at chess one of these days.”

Snape laughed and nuzzled her neck. “Of all the items on that list—your defeating me at chess is the most unlikely.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have many years ahead for me to try.”


End file.
